


Lesson

by orphan_account



Category: The Lorax (2012)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Father-Son Relationship, G-rated vore, Gen, No shipping, Spanking, Vore, expectax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Once-ler keeps chopping down trees. The Lorax has had enough... fortunately, he's got a few ideas for how to teach his former charge a lesson. Gift fic for a friend based off of said friend's many headcanons about the Lorax and my own love of their more familial relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift fic for cradlingzelisheart on tumblr, who loves all things Lorax. She has been going through a stressful couple of days, so I decided to make a fic combining her headcanons with one little one of my own. While I am not super into what she's into, I appreciate how she describes stuff and I wanted to cheer her up. I will run over and give credit for her copyrights here:
> 
> -Every year, at the end of summer, the season goes to rest within the Lorax. Like a great, glowing hummingfish, it dives into the Lorax's eyes and settles into his stomach and sleeps there. The Lorax cares for it like a mother would a child, and all offerings to the spirit, food or otherwise, go to feed this slumbering magic within. This is all well and fine, but when the Once-ler starts destroying the valley, things start looking bad for the Lorax as well.
> 
> -The Lorax's entire body reflects the valley, from his slightly glowing, sunny fur to his mustache. His insides are like a safe pocket for the magic of the valley. This means his insides are soft and warm and can be used as a safehouse for living things.
> 
> -The valley is like a kindergartin for the animals, they are more kids at play than anything and the Lorax is like a babysitter or a father. But of course, you can't care for kids without still being a bit of a kid yourself.
> 
> If you like any of these headcanons, you should absolutely check out cradlingzelisheart on tumblr, she has loads.
> 
> MY headcanons:
> 
> -The Lorax and Once-ler have a very father-son or older brother-younger brother sort of relationship. With his family, the Once-ler never really got attention or love. Deep down he just wants approval and care, and with the Lorax he was starting to get that when he did the RIGHT thing... but then his family came. The Lorax sees the Once-ler as more of a wayward kid than anything. And wayward kids, well, they get punished...
> 
> This fic is meant to be G-rated-- more of a family thing. I understand some people are going to view this as something else regardless of what I say, but if you have any thoughts like that, please keep them to yourself. The author of most of the headcanons I used here is severely triggered by anything sexual and she will be reading these comments, so please respect her wishes. In short, KEEP YOUR COMMENTS G RATED. Thank you.

He was so hungry.

There was not a moment when the Lorax was not aware of it. To call it a wound was not enough, though gazing at the shredded remains of truffula stumps certainly brought the thought to mind. It was not throbbing, it was not piercing, it simply was. It was the thirst clinging to his pink tongue like the schlop in the river, it was the thinness to the forest appearing like clumps of fur lost from his coat. It was the wrinkled, sour, wrong taste of the few fruits the truffula trees produced.

It was agony, a monster gnawing at his insides. It growled like one too, twisted and writhed in his belly and with each movement the Lorax would wince in both pain and concern.

After all, there was not enough space in there for two.

The thought came with yet another hunger pang, a sharp growl that had his furry brows squeezing shut and his paws clutching at the grass. This was not a good thing. The summers, like the valley, had been thinner and thinner over the past few years. There simply hadn’t been enough for it, not when what little food and sun drops there were needed to go to the animals.

Some guardian he’d proven to be.

It was with this in mind that the Lorax felt a stab of guilt when Pipsqueak approached his lair. He caught the sound of tiny paws crunching on far-too-dry truffula tufts, felt who it was without having to crack open his eyes to look. The guardian of the forest knew each and every thing within it, every animal, every tree, every drop of from the stream… and with that in mind, how could he not have expected the wrinkled, measly truffula fruit that was placed before him.

An offering? How long had it been?

“C-c’mon kiddo, ya don’t gotta do that… ‘m fine and you’re starvin’,” The gaurdian puffed out, his thinning mustache billowing on his exhausted breaths. But those eyes gazed up at him, trusting… the gaze of a cub, the gaze of a child who still still believed.

_Sheesh kid, c’mon. Don’t ya know at the end of the day I’m just another kid like you?_

They were all like that, really. The valley was a place of eternal childhood, a place where everyone from the youngest swomme-swan to the oldest, forever-napping bar-ba-loot could let themselves be wild and free. Free to enjoy natures gifts, truly, as if they were enjoying them for the first time. Free to play, free to laugh, free to sing…

The Lorax grimaced. Singing. He didn’t miss the stupid guitar strings, the showtunes and that stupid show-off smile… but sometimes, in the silence, he’d admit he missed the singing, at least the honest kind shared with hummingfish at all hours. The singing, the laughing, the stupid projects, the arts and crafts… the way those eyes used to seek the guardian on his level, look for his approval of all things….

But well, that was history, wasn’t it? Funny how he’d found the one kid he couldn’t manage and the whole valley had paid the price for it.

The guardian’s wandering, scattered thoughts were brought to an abrupt end by another dangerous growl from his belly. Once again he winced, nearly doubling over, not missing Pipsqueak’s little cry of alarm. The Lorax forced a chuckle, trying to ease the cub’s concern. “All right, all right, relax, ‘m takin’ it, promise.” He murmured, taking the fruit and only having to struggle past the limp, wrinkled skin for a moment before he had a bite.

Relief came so quickly it didn’t seem real, a flash of sweet tang only slightly soured by how out of season the fruit in question was. The Lorax let out a hum, eyes falling shut as he savored each bite, felt the hint of a warm glow thrum through his belly if only for a moment. Deep inside he felt something stir, a tickle…

And then the fruit was gone, even the last bits of juice lapped from his paws, and all he had to show for it was the monster in his gut yet again.

The Lorax gave a sigh, flopping onto his nest yet again. He laid there for a moment, simply breathing, then cracked open one dulled eye to look to the hopeful bar-ba-loot. After a moment he gave a grunt, then pushed himself to his feet— a much harder task in spite of how much lighter he was these days, a different sort of weight.

“Don’t worry, I heard ya loud and clear. I’ll try t’ talk with him. I just can’t promise he’ll listen.”

—

It was gray the morning the Once-ler struck out from his office. But then again, it was always gray lately— presumably just a rainy spell. He hadn’t been out in awhile, he’d been busy enough, but well, today was important. The were striking out to another section of the valley, an area that had previously been inaccessable by the Thneed-O-Matics. New technology had made them faster, better, able to make it up those hills without puttering out, and today was the party to celebrate the breaking of ground.

As he stepped out from his sports car— a sleek, striped green thing, big enough to hold twelve people even if it was just meant for him —the Once-ler took a deep breath. He then proceeded to give a terrible, throaty cough, the sort that left him gasping for air and clutching at his shirt collar. Ugh. Maybe today wasn’t the day for this… but well, he’d been sick for awhile and it wasn’t like the company could afford to stop, so he wouldn’t stop either.

Definitely wouldn’t. Not _couldn’t_.

The Once-ler set himself back to his height, adjusted his top hat, then grabbed his old axe before beginning the trek up the hill. There had been several breaking ground ceremonies as Thneed Inc. had expanded over the years, and each, naturally, came with a few important things. A lavish party, of course, the sort with his family, food, guests, and of course all the things his mother approved of…. but most importantly, there was the ceremonial first tree-cutting. That was the one he always did himself, the one he refused to let anyone else touch. He’d started this, after all. Who else had even known truffula trees were a thing before he’d gotten there? It was important for people to know who’d had the idea, who’d given them everything.

It was he who had swung the axe. He who’d made the choice. He who’d broken his—

Nope. Nah. Not important. Not anymore.

Before each ceremony, the Once-ler always made a point to seek out the tree to cut and prepped it to the point where he could take it down with a swing. After all, it wouldn’t do to watch him slave and labor at cutting the tree down— it should look effortless. Easy. 

With this in mind he glanced about, checking the area around this particular tree. Yep, top of the hill, perfect spot, the sort that would make the perfect stage, keep all eyes directed on him. “This’ll do,” He said to himself with a nod. He then shrugged off his green jacket, folding it carefully before setting it aside. He then reached for his top hat.

“Oh, thank the Whos, I was wonderin’ when you were finally gettin’ rid of tha’ thing. Your old one was dumb but at least it suited you.”

The Once-ler jumped, his eyes widening as he spun around. His shoulders then dropped, mouth twisting into a grimace. “Ugh. Of course it’s you.”

The Lorax stood before the truffula tree he’d chosen, tiny arms crossed before him, caterpillar-like brows fixed into a glare. “I’m the guardian of the forest and you’re choppin’ down my trees— on a hill ya promised t’ leave alone, fer the record. Not sure what you were expectin’ here,” The creature drawled… and did his mustache seem a bit thinner than it had been before?

The Once-ler shook off the thought. “Oh, I dunno, maybe that you’d finally drop this farce and crawl back into whatever hole in the ground you belong to.” The inventor said with an eyeroll, drumming his gloved fingers on the axe handle. “Speaking of which, you should probably do that, seeing how this is my property and all.”

“That so? Interestin’, seeing how nature don’t belong to anybody and all. Kinda comes with the territory. And once again, you promised t’ leave this spot alone.” The guardian’s tone became hard as he glared up at his former charge— put aside the lack of belief, put aside the way he remembered when his words used to mean something, put aside everything. It was about the valley, everything was about the valley.

Another eyeroll. “I don’t have to promise you anything, Mustache, I have plenty of contracts that say as much. I can do whatever I want— and that means chopping down this tree, so step aside.” The man stepped forward, nudging the Lorax’s paws with his dress shoe.

The Lorax stumbled, far more unsteady than the Once-ler remembered. Still, the creature stood firm, planting feetpaws into the dry Earth as his small mouth set into a frown. “Y’know, tha’ attitude of yours has gotten pretty nasty. ‘M not some toy for you to kick around, Beanpole.”

“So move then,” The Once-ler snapped. “Look, I have a meeting at ten and I need to make this quick. I have a party to set up for, the caterers are gonna be here at one and if we’re not ready the ice cream’ll melt and then we’ll have to throw it all out, and do you have any idea how much that much triple chocolate swirl costs?”

The Lorax couldn’t imagine, but he could imagine the taste of the cold cream on his tongue, the spike of sweetness— his stomach growled and the creature winced, fought to not double over.

His former charge, mid-rant, failed to notice his pain. “And we’ve got all the sandwiches coming in and the sushi and I’ve got to get my new suit adjusted because Martha is gonna be there and if I’m going to get _anywhere_ with that—“

“Martha?” The Lorax repeated. “What happened to Norma?”

The Once-ler stopped. “She… left… look, what does it matter? I can have as many girls as I want— and have, for the record. Throw enough presents someone’s way and everything’s golden.” He paused for a moment, noting the disgust in the guardian’s eyes. “Oh, lay off! They’re fine, they’re happy— and what does it matter? I’ve got plenty of friends!”

“Puttin’ the girls comment aside, ya HAD friends,” The Lorax snapped, throwing up a paw in frustration. “Instead of throwing all this junk at people who don’t care about ya, why not remember who you used to care about? You know, the swomme-swans, the hummingfish, the barb-a-loots— they’re starvin’, they’re dyin’!”

“Oh, whatever, you’re making that up!” The Once-ler yelled right back. “They’ve got plenty of room, they’ve got plenty to eat— look at you, you’re a fuzzy meatloaf like always!” With these words he nudged the Lorax with his foot again, more roughly this time.

The Lorax was bumped back, eyes squeezing shut, letting out a small squeak of pain. He then cracked open one eye, gazed up at the Once-ler’s look of surprise. Was this it? Did he get it? But no, then the darkness was back, an angry frown crossing his former friend’s face yet again.

“Y-you have plenty. More than plenty, and you should be grateful!” The Once-ler growled as he stood at his full height, glaring down at the creature. “This is my property and you’re here by my rules, so get used to it!”

He recieved an exhausted breath in response, the Lorax giving a sigh before his eyes narrowed again. “Your rules or your mom’s?”

That was enough. The Once-ler gave a snarl. “Get OUT!” His long leg snapped out to kick the forest guardian in the gut. The Lorax gave a shout of pain as his small body was knocked back into the free, as he dropped to the ground, clutching at his stomach.

He did not move.

The Once-ler stood there, eyes widening, jaw dropping in shock. Had he just… but no, no, the Lorax would be fine, the Lorax was always fine, and even if he wasn’t obviously the Once-ler couldn’t be at fault because it was his right anyway so it wasn’t like…

“That’s it.”

There was a stab of relief that the Once-ler quickly stomped down, his brow furrowing at the forest guardian’s tone.

The Lorax was slowly rising, paw still clutched protectively around his stomach. A stomach that seemed strangely small, so small, so thin, and even now the Once-ler was starting to notice, was starting to wonder over the lack of orange sheen— sheen, definitely not glow, because the Lorax would never glow, couldn’t glow, wasn’t possible…

“I warned ya, Beanpole. I don’t care what you do to me, but this…”

That drew an unwilling laugh from the Once-ler, something hard that sounded a bit too much like a bully’s for his liking. “What, is that a threat? What’re you gonna do, lecture me to death?”

Green eyes glared up at him, and very suddenly the Once-ler’s laugh died in his throat. And also, very suddenly, those green eyes didn’t seem to be glaring up at him anymore… The inventor’s jaw dropped as the Lorax began to change, began to grow, twiggy arms lengthening and round body _growing_ as he towered far above the Once-ler.

“W-what… h-how…”

“Funny thing, kiddo,” The Lorax growled out. “Even if you don’t believe in me, some of these kids do… and I think it’s time you did too.”

The Once-ler turned. He tried to run. It didn’t do a bit of good. A paw, suddenly much, much larger, reached out and grasped him, caught his long arm and pulled him across the grass. The Once-ler let out a shout, tugging uselessly, his nice dress shoes kicking against the grass and scuffing in the mud as he was pulled along. “Stop! Let me go! You have no right! I own this place! I own you!”

“Oh, don’t get me started on rights,” The Lorax muttered as he pulled the Once-ler along, his top hat falling to the wayside as they went.

They didn’t have far to go, within a few steps the inventor found himself shoved rather abruptly upon a truffula stump. He let out a gasp, the wind having been knocked out of him, gloved hands scrabbling for purchase, catching— a rock? This made him stop for a second, blinking in shock as he gazed down at the rock… one of several, placed in a circle around the tree.

“The first tree?” The Once-ler mumbled, expression one of shock.

“Yup.” The Lorax said from above him. “Remember it yet? Back when you was just some stupid kid?Yeah, you still are one… so I guess I’m gonna treat ya like one.” There was the sound of something rustling through the air— then very abruptly there was a snap, the sound of a tree branch connecting with the Once-ler’s behind.

The inventor let out a yelp, tears springing to his eyes. “Ow! What the hell—“ Another snap, in the same spot, sending a sharp, burning pain through him. He’d heard stories of this happening to other kids when he was younger, but to him? Nah, his mom had just ignored him… and suddenly he was very grateful for that, because this was obviously the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “Ooooow!”

“Language, Beanpole.” The Lorax chided in a tone that sounded almost chipper, warm paw pressing against his back in a way that seemed to hold him to earth. “And ya really shouldn’t kick anybody— forest guardians, animals, whatever. Not sure iffin’ your mom ever covered that, but I’ve seen yer brothers, so I’m guessin’ not. You shouldn’t slap forest guardians either, don’t think I forgot when you first introduced me t’ your family.”

Another smack. The Once-ler let out a howl and bucked against the stump, only to find he was staying exactly where he was put, as if bound by some kind of… magic? No. No, no, no, he would not accept it. He would not. This had to be a very bad dream, he must have taken too much flu medicine o-or maybe he’d had too much to drink or—

“Yeeeeeeoooow! Cut it out, Mustache! You have no right” The Once-ler cried, legs kicking out in a way that made him look more like a kid than the CEO of the top company in the country.

“Oh, I dunno. Let’s see here— you came into the valley under my protection. That makes you a kid under my care. Ya broke your promise— several, actually. You’ve wrecked the river, you’ve wrecked the valley, you’ve taken away so many homes, you’ve hoarded all that truffula fruit for yourself… and then you sit here and whine t’ me about _rights_?” Another couple of smacks. 

The Once-ler was full on crying now, tears and snot streaming down his face even as he grit his teeth and stomped his feet in the dirt. “Stop it! I do have rights! I own this place, I own you, I— owowow stooooooop!”

“You don’t own anything, Beanpole. Nobody owns nature. Your money ain’t gonna make up for a lack of respect, and I think ya need t’ learn some. You can’t steal from others. Ya can’t sit here and act like you own the place and do whatever you’d like. You don’t get t’ tell me about your parties and your food, when th’ valley is starving!?”

“B-but you’re not starving!” The Once-ler shouted. “Everything is fine!”

The Lorax stopped at that. “You think everything is fine?” The Once-ler let out a whimper of relief, hoping perhaps it was over… then let out a yelp of surprise as he was unceremoniously pulled up into the air. He was tugged upwards, forced to meet the Lorax’s now much larger gaze as the creature glared at him. “You think this is fine!? Do you even know what this is like? Do you know what it’s like t’ hurt? D’ya know what it’s like t’ starve!? D’ya know what it’s like to have life and t’ have some little _brat_ like you kick it away!? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE!?”

The Once-ler gaped up at him, breath caught in his throat. “But I can’t… mom says… I didn’t do anything wrong…”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think ya need a time out, beanpole.”

And then the Lorax was pushing him toward his mouth.

The Once-ler let out a scream, more terrified and bloodcurdling than the childish sobs he’d been emitting mere moments ago. “No, no, please no! I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again! I won’t chop down any more trees, I’ll shut down the company, whatever you want!” He kicked and thrashed, grasped for strands of mustache only to be pushed in anyway. “No, no, stop, don’t eat me, don’t eat me, NOOOOOO! No, no, nonononono!”

What an undignified way to go.

Into the mouth he went, the space hot and humid, the tongue beneath him warm washing over him like a bath. He grasped for purchase, failed, let out another sob as he slid down and down. Would being digested hurt? The Once-ler squeezed his eyes shut, tears clinging to his lashes, snot smearing across his face as he went down the throat…

And then abruptly, he was free. The pressure was gone.

He fell for a moment, then landed with a light fwumph onto something warm and soft. The Once-ler laid there, gasping, still choking on his sobs and hiccuping… then cracked open one eye.

His jaw drop was ruined only by the hiccuping sobs he was still experiencing. All around him, something like pink truffula fuzz, but even softer, if that even seemed possible. Softer than the softest thneed. The Once-ler took another dip, hiccuping breath, and with it came the smell, even sweeter than butterfly milk. His arms, which he’d had hugged to himself, dropped to the side— there was a slight splash as he hit a warm pool and the Once-ler pulled back.. only to trace his fingers through it. The liquid glimmered, caught the light of something from above… a flower, or that was the best thing he could use the describe it. A blossom of light, more beautiful than the sun, something soft and warm and drying away the bit of a ‘bath’ he’d taken on the… way… in… here?

He’d never felt more at home in his life.

“…What is this?” The Once-ler gasped.

“This is me.” The Lorax’s voice came from everywhere, rumbled through the tufts of fuzz, rumbled through the Once-ler, virbrated in his ears. “This is me… and this is also the valley.”

“…It’s magic…” The Once-ler murmured. “You’re… you’re magic.” The words sounded strange on his tongue, near impossible to believe even with the warmth under his fingers, and yet…

A laugh that vibrated everywhere and nowhere, a comforting sort of thrum. “I tried t’ tell ya, but you just wouldn’t listen. Sorry I had t’ do this.”

From deep within the guardian, the Once-ler shook his head, flopped back into the fuzz like he was laying in the grass. “N… no… it’s okay. I mean, it’s… it’s not… I wouldn’t have believed you, not in a million years. I…” His smile died on his face, dropped instantly.

“I’ve been hurting this. All this time, this…”

“Was gettin’ smaller, yeah.” The Lorax murmured. “It’s usually a lot bigger, normally… but now it’s takin’ all the energy I’ve got t’ keep it going.”

The Once-ler felt his throat constrict, released the fuzz instantly. “…I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

No response at that.

Blue eyes glanced around the ‘room’ again, flicked up to the flower bud, to the pool again… and then the Once-ler’s brow furrowed. “Hey, what’s this?” He asked as he moved forward toward the pool. “It… looks like a hummingfish, kinda.”

A moment of silence. “Tha’s… not for you t’ know. Not yet.”

The Once-ler would have been indignant… but then he saw whatever it was breathe, saw it curl up as if deep in slumber, and he gave a gasp. “It moved!”

“What!?” The exclaimation from the Lorax shook everything, knocked the Once-ler back the fuzz. “Really!? Well how about that!?” Then came the laugh, deep and happy, so full of relief that the Once-ler couldn’t help but grin.

He sat back, then gave a wince, reaching back to rub at a spot that was now decidedly sore. “Ow… that really hurt earlier, you know.”

“Well, you hurt the valley, so it’s only fair,” The Lorax huffed, and his breath tussled the Once-ler’s hair from within. “Don’t dish it out if ya can’t take it, Beanpole. Act like a bad kid and you’ll get treated like one.”

The Once-ler gave a grumbling sigh at that. “My mom just either yelled at me or ignored me…”

“Well that explains a lot, don’t it? Ya can’t go ignorin’ problems, ya ain’t gonna learn nothin’. Sometimes you gotta learn respect, even if it’s the hard way.” The Lorax murmured.

His charge considered this. Then he sighed. “I’m sorry… Lorax. I really am. I should have believed you. I should have kept my promise. When I get out of here, I’ll set it right. I promise.”

“Mmm. Ya ain’t forgiven yet, I’m gonna hold ya to that. You’d better believe if you break another promise, you’re coming right back here, ya got me?”

The Once-ler gave a small laugh. “Yeah, okay… that’s fair.” Another moment of silence with only his breathing, the Lorax’s, and the gentle thrum of the blossom— the Lorax’s heartbeat? The Once-ler let out a sigh, his eyes falling shut.

“Hey, Mustache?”

“Yeah, Beanpole?”

“Can I just stay here for awhile?”

“….Yeah, Yeah, all right.”

The Once-ler let out a contented sigh as he laid back in the fuzz, curling up within it. He traced his fingers through the pool, gazed down at the glowing hummingfish that echoed the gentle thrum of the Lorax’s heart…. and then, gently, he began to sing. It was a quiet thing, something honest, a lullaby to the sleeping thing that he simply felt compelled to sing.

From outside, the Lorax laid back against one of the truffula trees— for the moment, not really much bigger than him. He laid his paws on his considerably rounder belly and gazed up at the clouds, watching as they shifted to let loose one wonderful, perfect sunbeam…. then let his smile stretch with his mustache and beyond as he closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he felt full.

Perhaps he could fit two after all.


End file.
